It says something about the busyness of our retirement when I’m starting (although not finishing) this retirement blog on Wednesday, just less than a week before it’s due to be published. In part that’s to do with us making one of our annual trips to that London next Sunday. In fact publishing this on the said Tuesday might be a problem even if I do get it written in time. In the meantime my blogs about hotels we have known this year continues.
In addition to our travel plans cluttering up our lives there are a couple of other reasons why this week promises to be full on. Today for example, we’re heading up to the vineyard to continue with our renovations. I’ll write about this work and other bits and bobs in a proper vineyard blog at the beginning of next month. And with a little bit of cricket thrown in – watching the first proper game of cricket of the summer, the test match against Ireland. So that’s today taken care of.
Tomorrow I have yet another trip to the hospital, this time for a scan. Again I’ll write about this whole experience and its implications in a future blog. For now suffice it to say that will take up tomorrow. Not my first choice of a way to spend a day but that’s the way it is sometimes.
On Saturday we have to take the dogs over to uncle Paul’s (as they call him) for their holiday on the farm. This in preparation for the London trip. These weekends away are the only time we leave them but it still produces quite a lot of anxiety, in me at least. Perhaps, as I’ve written before, they won’t want to come home. Archie will go anywhere any time, but Millie is quite capable of refusing to get in the van if she doesn’t like the idea.
Then up early Sunday to catch the 9 o’ clock train from Leeds to Kings Cross. Straight to the hotel, drop off stuff and then over to Ronnie Scott’s (jazz club) for a lunchtime session. Then meet up with daughter and son-in-law for a drink before heading off to Veeraswamy’s (our favourite Indian restaurant in the capital) for a meal Sunday night. I’m exhausted at the very thought of it and it’s still days away.
Now it’s not days away, in fact it’s tomorrow and in a few hours we’ll be driving over to Uncle Paul’s to drop the doggies off. Then we’ll be worrying about whether our train tomorrow will be affected by the hot weather that we’ve had. Other train companies are saying there will be problems for those travelling to London. But not, at this stage, ours. In fact looking out the window, we’re more likely to be held up by floods than heatwaves. Never dull our weather.
Never dull in ‘that there London’ either. On Monday night, in the middle of my Guardian Masterclass, about which I shall write at a later date, I can report a variety of events along a continuum from mild surprise to outright shock.
The first surprise was that there were no problems with the trains on the way down despite inclement weather. The second, on arrival, was that we were not going to Ronnie Scott’s because I seem to have neglected to purchase our tickets – damn. Nor was it any surprise that the children were late arriving at the pub. Or that we went to bed early that first night.
The next day ranged from a mild surprise, that we had missed the Thames boat to Cadogan Pier. You’ve just missed it, the man said. This at about 9.30 in the morning. I was definitely amazed. Go to Battersea, he said, which we did. And then we walked to the Saatchi Gallery and an unpleasant shock.
This free gallery wasn’t free at all. Dishonest, as I said to the man on the desk, and on-line in my comments/ feedback. For the second visit the Saatchi gallery had turned out to be a bum deal. Last time it was closed having said that it was open on-line. This visit it would have been better if it had been closed. I wouldn’t have felt so cheated.
We walked back along the river to Tate Britain, the same gallery that I said of last time something like the best gallery visit ever. This time I surprised myself by having coffee and cake at the café and not stepping foot inside the gallery. Mrs Summerhouse did the honours and I sat in the garden after the coffee and cake.
So much for art on this trip. Actually that’s not fair, on Sunday we took a trip (only £33) by taxi to Dulwich Art Gallery to see an exhibition of British print-makers. Excellent, but the ratio of art to people was not quite right. Just too many people. Nice visit though so at least some fun on the art front.
Perhaps the most shocking event of the weekend happened right on the terrace of our hotel. It’s a pleasant leafy little spot in the middle of a hot London. We treated ourselves to a bottle of wine and humus and pitta bread. But the whole thing was spoiled by the terrible behaviour of the two women on the table next to us. Let me explain.
They ordered tea for two. People should not be allowed to spend £30 or whatever on cream teas unless they have a qualification in how to eat one. First they let the tea go cold by talking rather than eating. Similarly, the sandwiches must have gone hard. They ate items randomly rather than starting with the sandwiches, moving up a layer to the scones and finishing off with the cakes.
One of them cut her scone with a knife and then started to eat it. Never cut a scone with a knife I said mostly to myself. And where’s the jam and cream? You’re not fit to eat a scone (or scon as some folks say). We’d been there an hour and they’d barely started on the ‘items’. An utter disgrace. I had to resist going over there and saying, excuse me ladies but you two should not be allowed to order cream teas, I’m confiscating your tea.
And that, so far, has been our trip to that London. So many things wrong, I can’t wait to get back up North, pick up the dogs and say, we’ve seen some terrible things but it’s all over now. Thank God.
PS. Maybe some nicer photos on Friday. I think the Eye may have fallen over? Sorry. Different though.
PPS. This blog posted against all odds